


The Art of Diplomacy

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Iris attends her first state Council dinner at the palace. This is a one-shot set before the main story of the game, focusing a little more on Iris and the way the responsibilities and duties of the Amicitia family affect her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about how being the shield of the king means you need to have a level head/deal with stress so the king doesn't have to, and how Gladio is described as having such an easy time talking to people. Clearly, diplomacy is a big deal in that family, so what about Iris? Where does she fit in this? 
> 
> (Taking some backstory liberties here...)

“This isn’t your kind of thing,” Gladio said for the fifth time. He was sitting on Iris’ bed while she struggled to find something in her closet that wasn’t plaid, black, or way too short for a state dinner. “It’s like when the family gets together and we all have to sit quiet while Aunt Marian talks about her garden. Except worse, because everyone is Aunt Marian and all they talk about is trade embargoes.”

“Well, I need to start sometime,” Iris said, reasonably. “You’ll be looking after Noctis, and someone needs to represent our family at Council. If I don't start going to these dinners sometime, I'll be a mess when I'm old enough to serve on the Council proper.”

“Hey!” Gladio threw a pillow at her back. She squeaked and pulled a face at him. “Dad serves on the Council _and_ guards King Regis at the same time. So can I.”

“Yeah, sure, but you’re always saying that Noct is a handful. You might need help.” Iris yanked out a dress from the depths of her closet and stared at it. “This is new.”

Gladio’s face darkened for a moment. Iris glanced at him sidelong, and he carefully schooled his expression into one of polite disinterest. It was the curse of being in the Amicitia family—For generations, they had been raised to deal with unpleasant emotions quickly, quietly, and above all, without drawing attention. They had to have a level head when the King could not. It came easy to Iris, who found it served her pretty well in the dangerous halls of high school, but Gladdy struggled. It was hard for him to put on a mask and not let his own feelings take over. As the shield of the future king, he’d have to. She wondered how well that would work, when Noct seemed to know just what to do or say to make Gladio throw all his lessons in diplomacy out the window. 

“If the dress is cursed,” Iris said, “You should tell me now.”

“It isn’t,” Gladio said. “You don’t remember? Mom had it made for your first season in society.” 

Iris rolled her eyes. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about her mother—A cold, intense woman who treated her children like unruly houseguests and spent most of her time having quiet fights with their father while she was here. She was living in a distant part of Insomnia, now, in her own large, empty house. The last time Iris visited, they could barely find a thing to talk about. She’d thrown herself into the life of a good Amicitia daughter just as thoroughly as her mother had left it. 

Looking at the blue gown, she could see how her mother would have liked it. It was loose and faintly sheer, so that Iris could wear something underneath and adjust the overdress with a sash. Practical, but pretty. 

“I never did have a coming out party,” Iris said, softly.

“Thank the gods for that,” said Gladio. “You went to Narinde’s last summer, didn’t you? You aren’t allowed to invite any of your friends to those things, and people talk about you like you’re a cut of steak on the market.”

“Wow, Gladdy,” Iris said, digging for a black dress to wear under the blue one. “Never thought you’d notice that kinda thing.”

Gladio snorted. “Most of my friends at school were girls,” he said, “Even the king hates the social season. Dad says the Council nearly imploded when they found out he’d eloped with someone who’d never seen a crystal wineglass in her life.”

Iris sat on the edge of the bed, a frayed black dress in her hands. “I would have liked to meet the queen,” she said.

“I did, once,” said Gladio. “I don’t remember it, but there’s a picture somewhere.”

“Is that the one where you were screaming on the floor, and she was laughing too hard to pick you up?”

“I was a toddler, Iris.”

Iris giggled. Somehow, this made her feel a bit better about the prospect of having dinner at the same table as the King. She didn’t know him well, and her father always spoke of him in such lofty terms, but the thought of him causing a full-on scandal to marry a woman who laughed in official photos—Surely, he couldn’t be that intimidating.

\--

Sandwiched in the Council dinner between a clerk and a young noble, Iris found herself eating not out of hunger, but out of a need to do something with her hands. She felt like an invisible observer, a ghost who accidentally ended up in the right place at the right time. Iris smiled down into her drink. Gladio was right—The dinner was boring, but it wasn’t useless. Underneath all the talk about trade, war, and finance, Iris could see a complex web of power and influence. It was almost fun to untangle it. 

Noct, sitting across from her at the table, was definitely not enjoying himself. Iris could tell he wished he were as far from the Council as possible, and only Gladio’s barely withheld scowl was preventing him from leaving. Well. This wouldn’t do. Iris raised a hand to her ear and held it there until Gladio noticed. Gladio nudged Noct with an elbow and whispered something, and Noct looked up. Iris glanced to her left and tugged at her collar. It was a sign that Gladio knew meant “Need to escape?” Noct had apparently picked up on some signals from his friend, because he made a sign for “rescue” and smirked. 

Iris had to admit, in retrospect, that she probably shouldn’t have encouraged him.

In no time at all, Iris and Noct were discreetly speaking to each other through cleverly concealed combat signals. When one of the Council members made a sarcastic comment that made her father look at him sharply, Iris made the sign for “Enemy sighted.” When the financial advisor went on about embargoes even though the conversation had changed to the deployment of Glaives, Noct signaled “Drones!” Iris nearly inhaled her drink at that one. 

It took a while for them to remember that they weren’t the only ones in the room who knew military hand signals. When Iris and Noct got into a heated, silent debate on whether the last course was “behemoth” or “poisoned dirt,” the king let out a faint, strangled cough. Iris, Noct, and Gladio turned with the rest of the table to see the king covering a smile with one hand.

“My apologies, friends,” he said. Was it her imagination, or did his gaze linger on Iris and Noct a little longer than the others? The Council returned to their chatter, but the King glanced her way one more time, raised a hand slightly, and made the signal for “behemoth, affirmative.”

This time, it was Noct’s turn to choke. 

\--

“We’re going to die,” Gladio said. 

Gladio, Noct, and Iris had escaped into an unused drawing room after the Council dinner broke up, and Gladio was taking this brief reprieve to fall into despair.

“You’re not going to die,” said Noctis. 

Gladio gave him a long suffering look. “If the King noticed, my dad noticed. If my dad noticed, then yes, yes, Noctis, I am going to die.”

“I’m not,” Iris said. “This is my first offense.”

Gladio shot her a glare, and Noct grinned. 

“Maybe we should leave you to your sentencing,” said the prince. “What do you say, Iris? Want to sneak out and meet Prompto and Ignis at the 24/7 kebab place?”

“No,” said Gladio, firmly.

“Didn’t invite you, Gladio. You’re here to die, remember?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said a soft, familiar voice from the door. Gladio stiffened and shot to his feet. Iris followed his example and turned to the door, where she saw King Regis leaning on his cane. Iris and Gladio bowed—Noct inclined his head from his seat on one of the long couches, not bothering to stand. 

“I’m glad to see you taking an interest in the Council, my dear,” the King said to Iris. She struggled to keep from blushing, and only just succeeded. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen my son quite so lively during the proceedings. What did you think of the dinner?”

Iris blinked. “It was very nice, Your Majesty—“ she started, slipping into her long-practiced platitudes. She saw something shift in King Regis’ eyes. It was the same look her dad made whenever he was forced to listen to something he didn’t care for. Panicking, she struggled for the first thing that had stuck out in her mind. “The financial advisor… seemed personally invested in… lifting trade restrictions outside of Insomnia. He kept watching everyone else to see if they were paying attention. But he stopped talking when everyone switched to the monopoly on the arms trade, which made me think that’s what he’s really interested in…” she rambled to a stop, realizing too late that she was talking to him the way she would to her father, who didn’t mind if she talked herself in circles.

The King’s bemused smile was back. “Very good!” he said. “Argus’ arms company has fallen on hard times lately, so he says, but transport vehicles from his subsidiaries are leaving Insomnia in record numbers. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Iris thought about this. “You don’t think he’s smuggling?” she asked.

“Did I say that?” said the King. He made the sign for “silence,” and Iris nodded in understanding. “Amazing what you can pick up at a simple council dinner, isn’t it, Noctis?”

“Yeah,” said Noct. “Riveting.”

The King looked at his son for a long moment. “I’ll leave you three to it, then.” He acknowledged Iris and Gladio’s bows of farewell and stepped out of the room. Iris watched him go with a faint smile.

“I like him,” she said, surprising herself. He was clever, and he had a glimmer of Noct’s sense of humor under all that untouchable kingliness. She could see why her father would count him as a friend.

“That’s my dad,” Noct said. “A people person.”

Iris turned on the prince. “Not like you, though, your highness.”

“Oh no,” said Noct. “I hate people. Can't you tell?” He nudged Gladio’s leg with a foot. “So? Are we going to get kebabs or what?”

Gladio groaned, but Iris knew he didn’t have a choice.

Which was how Iris, Gladio, and Noct ended up huddled at the corner of a late night food stand in full evening wear, trying not to drip oil on their suits and gown. Prompto met up with them a little later, dragging Noct’s advisor, Ignis, behind him. Noct played a sappy love song on his phone while Prompto dramatically begged Iris for a dance. Gladio stepped in instead, dipping the blonde like a professional dancer, and Iris jumped in to whirl Prompto away from under her brother’s nose. Ignis intercepted Iris from Prompto, and Noct took that chance to try and lift his gangly friend bodily into the air. The resulting crash got them kicked out of the food stand patio. Noct helped Iris stuff her flowy overgown into her bag so she could climb a garden wall in her black dress, Gladdy lost his tie at a pier somewhere, and Prompto walked off wearing Noct’s jacket and a cravat no one remembered bringing along. By the time Ignis drove them to their respective homes, Iris was half asleep with her feet on Noct’s lap and her back to Gladio’s shoulder, running her hand through the soft fabric tangled up in her bag. 

All in all, she thought, not a bad ending to a girl’s first night at Council.


End file.
